When I saw the incoming call from my pet sitter, my heart sank. The no-attempt-at-a-text-first call when you’re out of the country is never anything good.
I know there’s a spectrum of ways to feel about a pet, from mildly detached to completely obsessive, and I regret to say that I fall more on the obsessive end of things. From my first sight of her, bedraggled, dirty, and growling atop a bed of newspapers at the Atlanta Humane Society, I have been completely in love. She is a member of my family, but it might be more intense than that, even. We don’t do much separately. If I take a shower, she’s curled up on the bathmat.
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